


Inexorable

by ShimmeringBubble



Series: ITSV Soulmates [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, spider-fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShimmeringBubble/pseuds/ShimmeringBubble
Summary: In which the universe decides that Miles and Peter B. both deserve happiness.An Into the Spider-Verse Platonic Soulmate AU.
Relationships: Miles Morales & Peter B. Parker
Series: ITSV Soulmates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152059
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

The universe had an interesting and theoretically simple method of messing with humans’ lives. 

Of course, it couldn’t just _allow_ people to make decisions for themselves. Why make it that easy?

Instead, it had decided it just _had_ to play matchmaker, connecting people it thought should be lovers or lifelong companions.

In other words, soulmates.

It worked like this: Whatever words showed up on your arm would be the first spoken to you by your soulmate. Some people didn’t have a mark, but the majority of the population had at least one. If you were really “lucky,” you got a right and a left mark. Right wrist was for romantic, left wrist was for platonic. Simple.

Except no, it wasn’t actually all that simple, because what if the person who spoke the ‘special’ words to you was a total jerk? What if you weren’t actually destined to be together? What if you just weren’t compatible? What if that person wanted kids and you didn’t? What if you couldn’t get rid of your hero complex, and your soulmate hated that you were never there for her, so you split up and never spoke to each other again? 

Philosophers could blather on all they wanted about how important and special soul marks were until they were blue in the face, but Peter would never care.

Maybe some people got tied to the right person, but clearly, not everyone was so lucky. 

Peter’s Right mark had appeared 4 months after he was born. One day, his mother picked her son up only to find neat, curved letters in the middle of his chubby forearm.

‘Oops.’ The extremely eloquent word destined to indicate his perfect match.

Peter grew up watching the delicate swirls shift between different emotional colors. A soul mark’s color would fluctuate depending on the mood of the other person. Softer tones were usually an indicator of neutral feelings, while brighter colors indicated a more intense, passionate mood. 

Peter’s soulmate mostly had calm purples and greens, though he suspected they had a passionate streak judging by the sudden flares of intense oranges or yellows. 

Looking back, he remembered being sourly disappointed that he didn’t have a Left mark through his childhood. While he was glad that he didn’t have two blank wrists, the idea of only having a _girl_ as a soulmate seemed boring and gross at the time.

Despite the statistics, it felt like everyone else at school had a friend that they were destined to meet. In elementary school, a time where no one understood the propriety of keeping a soul mark private, it seemed that everybody he met only had one question for him.

“I don’t have a Left mark,” would always be his answer. They usually stepped away to ask the same question to a different kid.

Peter was not the most graceful kid, so naturally, he met a few people whose first words to him matched his mark. On most occasions, it was someone who was obviously not his match. It wasn’t until Freshman year in high school that he suspected he had found the right person.

He was trudging down the hall, eyes downcast, when he walked right into someone else. A very pretty someone else.

“Oops!” Mary Jane Watson said, her books dropping out of her arms and hitting the worn floor with a slam.

Peter didn’t even register the words or the tingling sensation over his right arm, caught off guard by being so close to one of the most popular, amazing people at his school.

“I- I’m so sorry,” he managed to yelp out, diving to help her pick up her books. When he stood up, his eyes locked onto her beautiful, freckled face. She looked surprised.

“It’s... no problem,” she said, giving a rather strained smile. “Peter, right?”

“You know my name? I mean- yeah, that’s me,” he replied, giving an awkward smile and praying that nothing was stuck in his teeth.

MJ was opening her mouth to say something else, her expression hesitant yet curious, when a group of her friends called her name from down the hall.

“I, uh, have to go,” Peter blurted, mentally face-palming as he hurried around her.

It wasn’t until halfway into Chemistry class that he realized the first words Mary Jane had uttered to him matched the inside of his right arm.

Although their meeting was very Disney-Channel-cliché, it felt otherworldly to Peter at the time. He spent most of high school staring after MJ, wondering if he was really lucky enough to have such a wonderful person as his other half. It didn’t come up between them until after he made an actual connection with MJ in Senior year, the two quickly finding a steady friendship. There were a lot of twists and turns, many of them involving his alter ego, but they got there. By the time they realized they were bonded, it was a moot point. They were already in love.

It wasn’t until Peter was 23 that anything appeared on his left wrist.

He was patching himself up from a particularly nasty knife wound when his eye caught on something peeking out from under his torn suit sleeve.

He pulled back the fabric, revealing a rather unique font on his skin.

‘Who are you?’ It read.

Peter blinked, staring at the unique letters that displayed a soft, contented reddish-pink color.

“What the hell?” he muttered, staring down at his arm in fascination.

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating from the 8 Advils he had taken for his super-metabolism, or if he was really getting a second soul mark this late in life. If it was the latter, then it was...unexpected. 

Generally, the left mark was reserved for childhood friends, family members, or anyone who was not...a random kid? He was certain it had to be someone much younger than him. Why else would it have appeared so late?

But seriously. A KID?

It wasn’t even like it was _his_ kid. No, some random child was now destined to one day meet and recognize him as the one bonded to his or her left mark.

Great. This was just what he needed. _More_ unpredictable twists in his life. 

Peter let out an uneasy huff, forcing himself to focus back onto his bleeding wounds. He didn’t mention the new development to MJ, partly forgetting due to a vicious fight with Doc Ock.

Of course, MJ soon noticed the mark. It happened as he was unceremoniously collapsing onto the couch, groaning as the movement pulled at his various injuries. 

“What’s that?” She asked, stepping to his side and rolling his sleeve back further from where it had slipped. The mark must have stood out particularly well because of its bright, happy color.

“Wha’s what?” He mumbled in reply, already halfway to falling asleep from exhaustion.

MJ gasped softly, causing him to become more alert. “Peter, is this... a soul mark?”

“Yeah, I...guess so,” he answered, already anticipating a lengthy conversation about said mark.

“You seem awfully nonchalant about this,” MJ said, her voice taking on a hint of irritation. “You didn’t think you should mention this? How long has it been there?”

“Uh, ‘couple of days, I think,” Peter answered. He titled his head, observing the mark which currently took on a lime-green tint. Maybe the kid was playing or something. Peter was pretty sure just about anything made you happy as a baby.

“Peter. This is... it’s amazing! I didn’t even consider that you would develop another mark!” MJ breathed. “They must be a kid!”

“Yeah, lucky kid that gets me as their Left,” Peter mumbled. “Kid’ll probably brag all over school if they find out Spider-Man is their ‘destined buddy.’”

“You don’t sound very optimistic about this,” MJ commented in a deceivingly neutral tone, stepping into the apartment’s kitchen.

Peter shrugged, “I... just wasn’t ready to consider having a kid in my life.”

Little did he know that that statement was a depressing glimpse into the disagreements they would have in the future.

———

Peter didn’t pay too much mind to the Left mark throughout their marriage. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, not to mention the fact that he was always too busy being Spider-Man and barely scraping by in his day job. The whole idea of it just didn’t quite sit well with him.

Occasionally, his eyes would be drawn to the mark on the rare occasion he had time to notice his forearm. Whoever the kid was, he or she seemed to be rather bright-spirited. The colors fluctuated in intensity somewhat as the kid got to an older age, but the colors never seemed to indicate any kind of danger or pain as far as he could tell. 

Peter had heard about other people’s marks also shifting between bright, cheerful colors frequently. It was supposedly said to be a sign of creativity and artistic ability. His mark seemed determined to make itself into a swirling storm of colors ranging from smooth pastels to energetic neons. It was bold and brilliant. It didn’t even look like someone’s handwriting, more like word art. The font oddly reminded Peter of some of the graffiti lettering he had seen thousands of times on buildings throughout the city. 

It was quite the contrast from MJ’s elegant, subdued penmanship.

Peter found that MJ’s words took on significantly darker shades as their relationship became more and more strained. Eventually, he found himself faced with the inevitable, almost black color her words settled on. It almost matched the ink of the pen he used to sign the divorce papers.

Soulmates splitting up was supposed to be extremely rare, but not unheard of. Peter tackled the pain of it like he did everything else. He pushed at it with all his might, cramming down his emotions as much as possible.

Everything would he fine if he kept pushing himself to be better, faster, stronger.

He had to wonder what the kid with his words on his or her left arm thought. It must have been pretty miserable to witness the depressed colors his words were surely displaying. If Peter had to guess, he would pin his colors to be a dull, numb grey, occasionally broken up by a brilliant red to show the results of his frequent physical injuries.

It certainly didn’t help his emotionally exhausted brain whenever he caught a glimpse of the single word scrawled across his right arm. ‘Oops.’ A terrible, ironic foreshadowing of his doomed relationship with his wife.

So, Peter kept getting up in the morning, kept getting up when he was knocked down.

He got up, because he wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise. 

He just had to keep punching bad guys, making terrible quips, and waving for the cameras. The same things he had always been doing.

Ultimately, Peter made a conscious decision to stop looking at the soul marks on his arms. It wasn’t hard, as they were already under his Spider-suit most of the time. 

He was done with waiting on destiny.

——————————————

Miles had a mark on his left arm from the moment he was born.

His mother noticed it after they returned home from the hospital, her son’s arm showing two words in a messy scribble.

‘Hey, kid.’

“I guess it makes sense,” Rio commented to her husband as they stared down at the words. “If his friend is going to address him as a ‘kid,’ he must be much older than Miles.”

Miles spent his childhood wondering who his mysterious friend was, and what they were like. Their mark was mainly neutral during his younger years, remaining a steady shade of dark blue. It would occasionally swirl into a lighter blue, which Miles figured meant they were in an accordingly lighter mood. He would beam in delight on the rare occasion that his mark transformed into a beautiful, joyful gold color. “Look, ma!” He would call, showing his mother the words. “I think my friend is really happy!”

Miles’ least favorite was when his mark would suddenly turn red, sometimes spiking into a bright scarlet color, indicating pain. Once, when he was 5, it remained scarlet for three whole days in a row, filling Miles with unease. “What do you think it means?” He would ask his parents, frowning down at the concerning hue. “Why are they hurting so much?”

Rio and Jeff would exchange a concerned glance whenever Miles brought up his soul mark. “I’m sure they’re alright, Mi Amor,” Rio would attempt to soothe. 

Miles would still frown down at the mark, wondering what his Left could be going through to hurt them so much.

(In a different universe, Peter B. Parker was in agony from his spine slowly knitting itself back together.)

As Miles grew older, he finally began to understand that his soulmate clearly did not have the easiest life. Their reassuring blue hue had begun to darken. One day, when he was 10, it dropped to an almost pitch black color. “I think something happened,” was all he said to his mother when she questioned his somber mood.

Some of the blue tint returned after a few months, only to darken again. Miles tried to get used to staring at a dull, almost lifeless mark. It was only ever brightened by the alarming scarlet flashes.

Maybe they were OK, he tried to reason with himself. Maybe his mark wasn’t translating the colors correctly. Deep down, though, Miles knew something was wrong.

He stopped mentioning it to his parents, and took to covering his mark so others wouldn’t see. It wasn’t uncommon for people to keep their marks private, so no one ever bothered him about it. He often laid his hand on the sad, steadily dulling letters, wishing he could talk to the person on the other end. It hurt to think about his companion going through so much pain. 

———

It wasn’t until Miles was 14 and had just started attending Brooklyn Visions Academy that things really began to change. One minute, he was just trying to get through the start of a new school, the next, he was trying to figure out what the hell had happened to make him stick to the side of a building.

Miles tried to ignore the eerie similarities between his new predicament and the one previously faced by a certain wall-crawler. He returned to the subway where he had been bitten in hopes of proving that his impossible day had been a figment of his imagination.

It all went to hell, because then he was caught in a battle between Spider-Man and Green Goblin, Spider-Man swooping in to save his life.

Spider-Man was familiar to him in a strange way, the buzzing in their heads connecting them almost instantly.

“You’re like me,” Spider-Man said, awe in his voice. Then Spider-Man was offering to help Miles learn, promising to guide him through the insane reality he was caught in. 

Miles watched him swing gracefully away, new hope blossoming in his heart. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Then Prowler showed up, battling Spider-Man near the top of the collider. Miles felt useless, watching helplessly from below.

The helpless feeling escalated quickly as the collider imploded, killing Green Goblin and injuring Spider-Man. Miles knew it was bad the moment he laid eyes upon the broken spandex-clad figure in the wreckage.

“Promise me you’ll do this,” Spider-Man choked as he gave Miles the override key, the single blue eye behind the cracked lens boring into him. 

“I promise,” Miles whispered, unable to say anything else to a dying man.

He knew that Spider-Man was lying to him when he said it would be OK.

The sight and sound of Kingpin murdering Peter Parker would be the most horrific detailing of Miles’ nightmares for years to come.

He fled from the unspeakable horror, barely escaping with his life. Prowler didn’t make it easy.

———

“Our family doesn’t run from things, Miles,” his mother told him when he later allowed some of his fear to slip out through a seemingly innocuous question.

Miles knew he had to try to prevent his dread from consuming him. He was going to have to be strong to fulfill his impossible promise.

———

He bought a cheap Spider-Man costume to hide his face, gazing into a dingy bathroom mirror with uncertainty in his eyes. He climbed the stairs to the top of an impossibly high building, the newscasts of Peter Parker’s death and Mary Jane’s speech echoing in his mind.

_“Promise me you’ll do this.”_

He jumped, and fell, crushing the override key. Crushing any hope of becoming what Spider-Man hoped he would.

———

Afterward, Miles wandered his way to the cemetery he knew Peter Parker had been buried in. He shivered in the cold, unable to tear himself away from the sight of the tombstone covered in memorials.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker,” he whispered, his breath ghosting out in fine clouds.

He didn’t immediately register the shape landing nimbly behind him, not until a footstep crunched softly in the snow.

Miles caught sight of an eerily familiar silhouette, his heart jolting into action as he perceived the shape of the Prowler. Electricity coursed in his veins, spurred on by his emotional reaction.

Miles did not register the impact behind the words the figure spoke as he laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, kid- agh!”

Peter B. Parker wasn’t conscious to hear Miles’ whispered “Who are you?”

He also didn’t register the soft tingle that raced along his left arm, curling around the soul mark he had forced himself to forget.

Miles was too surprised to notice his soul mark tingling. The electricity that had apparently come from _his hands_ still warmed his fingertips, distracting him from the telltale sign.

Unbeknownst to both of them, there was a subtle shift in the air as their paths finally met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was essentially a prologue to what will be a post-canon story.
> 
> This is my first fic on here, so I really hope the HTML is functioning properly...
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> P.S. I changed the line Rio said because I realized it did not match up with the continuity I set up LITERALLY in the same chapter..oopsie d:


	2. Chapter 2

Miles felt like the other spider-people took a part of him with them when they left. He missed the bizarre group pretty much immediately, wishing he could tell them about his first real steps as Spider-Man, and the hurdles he was still discovering and overcoming.

He realized that they must know that he stopped the collider, as it didn’t seem that the universe was being torn apart lately.

It was _true_ that he found comfort in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in carrying the burden of being Spider-Man, but still. It was tough.

Miles found himself grinning whenever he leapt off a rooftop and remembered Peter’s rushed, somewhat-unhelpful instructions for web-slinging.

He wondered if Gwen would ever open up to the idea of friendship, if Noir would ever solve his Rubik’s cube, if Peni could fix her father’s robot.

He wondered if Peter ever took his own leap of faith with MJ. Miles had thought the two might be soul-bonded. He suspected so, which made Peter’s loss of his partner seem even worse.

After opening up to his roommate, Ganke, about his identity as Spider-Man, Miles found it was pretty easy to go out on patrol at night during the school week. He climbed through the window, quickly changing out of the suit and pulling on some more casual clothes.

Miles was just settling onto his bunk, placing his headphones on with a contented smile, when he heard the voice.

“...Miles! Got a minute?” The voice was oddly familiar.

“Gwen?” He gasped, eyes flying open to be met with a swirling portal yawning open from the ceiling.

“Climb through!” Gwen called, stretching an arm out.

Miles didn’t hesitate, not stopping to consider the possible pitfalls of climbing through what looked like a black hole with sparkles. He grabbed her hand, giving himself a boost off the bunk. The portal shut behind him with a snap.

(Back in Miles’ universe, Ganke typed on, oblivious to his roommate’s disappearance.)

“Whoa!” Miles yelped as he was deposited in a heap onto a hard floor. His bones felt like they were trying to buzz loose from his body. “What was that?”

“My latest invention, the PUP-D!” An excited voice replied.

Miles righted himself, looking up to meet the sight of Peni and Gwen standing before him. He felt the gentle buzz in his head that confirmed the reality that they were actually there.

“Gwen! Peni! Oh my gosh, I didn’t think I’d see you guys again!” Miles dashed to his feet, an enormous grin stretching across his face.

“You can thank Peni for that,” Gwen replied, giving the other girl a proud smile.

“After I fixed my father’s mech, I realized that- well- I was really missing you guys. So I decided to try to engineer my own mini collider. You know, like the one we destroyed, but less doomsday-ish,” Peni explained. “I was able to understand some of the fundamentals from studying the Goober in your dimension, but I still had to do some light reading to understand and execute inter-dimensional travel. It took a few tries, but I finally came up with this: the Parallel Universe Portal Device.” She gestured to the complex, 4 foot-tall, whirring machine next to her. 

“Wow, that’s- wait, did you just call studying inter-dimensional travel _light reading?_ ”

Peni shrugged. “I had already brushed up on the theories of it last year in physics.”

“....OK,” Miles said, glancing at Gwen bemusedly. “Well, I’m glad you figured it out. I’ve been missing you guys too.”

“We’re going to have to pick up the others soon,” Gwen said. “The whole atoms-ripping-apart-in-another-dimension thing hasn’t been solved.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Peni reminded her, turning her attention to a tablet-like device in her hand. “I have to use this to send a signal to the PUP-D in order for it to work,” she explained. “It should open a portal to the next dimension we need.”

Miles began to take note of his surroundings for the first time. They were standing in a large room that was divided into two different sections. One side looked like the set of a sci-fi movie, work tables covered in bizarre tools and mechanical creations. The other half of the room looked like a futuristic living room, with a large screen TV and comfortable furnishings. Miles was pretty sure he could see a minibar from where he stood.

“By the way, where exactly are we?”

“Peni’s lab,” Gwen answered. “Seemed like it was the best place to gather.”

Miles could barely hear the last part of her sentence over the universe-ripping sound of the PUP-D opening another portal.

“Alright, who wants to be the one to tell Peter?” Peni chirped.

“I will,” Miles said, his smile returning in full force at the thought of seeing his ‘janky, old’ mentor again.

Peni handed him a device identical to the one she had used to control the portals. “You’ll need this. You have to press this button here,” she said, indicating the orange button on one side. “It plays a sound on a frequency that only spider-people should be able to hear. It should travel pretty far, even with all the noise in the city. Assuming that he hears it, I’m willing to bet Peter will want to investigate.” She paused, adding as an afterthought, “Just make sure you don’t press any other buttons on it.”

“Cool,” Miles said, turning the device over in his hands. He hesitated. “The sound isn’t gonna blow out a bunch of animals’ eardrums or something, right?”

“No, of course not!” Peni answered, looking slightly offended.

“Just checking,” Miles grinned before stepping through the portal.

———

He came out on a rooftop in Manhattan, the surroundings familiar and yet dissimilar to his home dimension. Everything looked somehow sharper, and there seemed to be more grey tints to the buildings.

“Here goes nothing,” Miles said, pressing the button on the device and holding it up into the air above his head.

He cringed at the sound it emitted, holding it away from him as far as possible. It was like a sort of insistent chiming in his ears, not as unpleasant as an alarm, but not exactly musical.

He waited all of five minutes before he heard the sound of webs _thwipping_ the next block over.

Miles turned, watching as the red and blue figure leapt toward the roof he was standing on.

Spider-Man landed in the famous crouching pose that Miles had seen dozens of times, lenses fixing first onto the bright blue portal, then onto Miles himself.

Peter straightened up, the suit’s lenses widening as he recognized Miles.

Miles grinned, feeling the warm tingle signifying another spider at the back of his skull. “Hey,” he greeted nonchalantly.

“MILES!” Peter yelled, ripping away his mask and running to pull the teen into a crushing hug. Miles laughed, feeling warmth bloom in his chest, relieved to see his friend alive.

“I can’t believe you’re here, bud! Wait- _how_ are you here?” He released Miles, holding him at arms length as he looked toward the portal still spinning next to them. “Please don’t tell me there’s another inter-dimensional crisis. I think I’ve maxed out on my tolerance for those.”

“Nah, it’s nothing like that. Peni figured out how to cross the dimensions,” Miles explained, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “She and Gwen are waiting on the other side of this portal. We’re working on getting the whole group back together.”

“This is amazing,” Peter said, turning back to Miles. “Are you OK? I knew you succeeded at destroying the collider, but you weren’t hurt, were you?”

“I’m fine,” Miles answered, hoping Peter didn’t notice the slight change in his expression. Thinking about the collider fight was...not great. It brought up a lot of difficult issues.

Issues like the repeating nightmares about his Uncle, Spider-Man, and Kingpin that Miles couldn’t seem to shake. 

Peter paused, staring at Miles with an unreadable expression. His voice took on a gentler quality.“You saved a lot of people, Miles. I still can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Miles bit the inside of his cheek at the praise, uncertain exactly how to respond. “Yeah, I’m happy to be here, man. But hey, we might need to catch up later. Peni said we have a few hours before we start glitching in each other’s dimensions. I’m supposed to bring you back through.”

“Guess we shouldn’t keep ‘em waiting. Wait- you’re sure this isn’t going to, like, create a black hole, right? Or get us stuck in the wrong dimension _again?”_

“Guess we’ll find out,” Miles smirked, turning and walking through the portal.

“Very helpful,” Peter sighed as they both went through.

———

All of the spider-gang gathered back in Peni’s lab, the excitement of being reunited buzzing through the air.

“I missed all of you” seemed to be a common sentiment.

Peni gathered them into a semi-circle, distributing devices that she called “PUP-Os” - or Parallel Universe Portal Operators.

The mini devices acted as remote controls for the PUP-D, which would then send a portal to any of the dimensions to their location.

Peni also included a rather limited texting feature into the PUP-Os, patiently explaining the operation to a very confused Noir.

“The messaging isn’t great yet,” she explained. “It’ll mostly be for confirmation that we can travel to each other’s dimensions.”

“What about the atom-ripping problem? Won’t we start to degrade?” Peter asked, grimacing as he remembered the painful experience.

“I’m working on a solution for that,” Peni answered. “By my calculations, everyone should be able to stay in a different dimension for roughly 9 hours before they experience any problems.”

“Speaking of a different dimension,” Gwen said, frowning slightly, “I was kinda in the middle of studying for a really important test before I got here. I don’t want to be rude, but I think I have to go home.”

“Yeah, it’s a school night, you kids need to be in bed,” Peter announced. Then he paused, “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you all again sooner than two months this time, and I feel like there’s some stuff we need to catch up on,” his eyes settled meaningfully on Miles.

Miles blinked, realizing that Peter was likely talking about the situation with the collider after everyone had left. He tried to keep a neutral expression, avoiding thinking about the terrible sensation of Kingpin throwing him to the ground, the same way he had killed the other Peter-

Maybe it was his imagination, but Miles could have sworn Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly. He internally cringed when he remembered the likely obvious discomfort he had shown earlier over the topic.

“How ‘bout a meet up?” Ham spoke up. “I might be able to squeeze in some time Friday night.” He pulled a cartoon pocket watch out, squeezing it until it squished up and produced a squeaking sound.

“That would work for me,” Gwen spoke, merely raising her brows at Porker’s antics.

They eventually came to the decision that they would meet in Peni’s dimension at 6:00 on Friday night. There was some debating on whether or not _certain_ members would skip, but the other spider-people demanded that said certain members had to show up too. (Noir still grumbled, but Miles got the impression he was smiling a bit under his mask.)

Peni closed off their unofficial meeting by first opening up Gwen’s portal, then Noir’s, then Ham’s, until finally Miles and Peter were the only two displaced spiders left.

“See you soon, bud,” Peter said, giving Miles a soft smile.

Miles returned the smile, waving as that same feeling from before warmed his heart. He watched Peter slip back into his dimension.

———

Ganke was still typing away when Miles fell from the ceiling directly into his bunk.

He curled on his side, grinning as he thought of his spider-family.

———

Miles’ PUP-O lit up with a few messages throughout the next day. Several of the messages were just Noir attempting to figure out the futuristic device. Peni would usually answer his questions with great patience while everyone else threw in unhelpful comments.

Friday night came, and everyone piled back into Peni’s laboratory, claiming spots on the bright-hued furniture. Peni provided pizza, which apparently hadn’t gone out of style in the future. (“I don’t think humankind could ever give up this Promethean gift,” Peter commented as he wolfed down a third slice.) 

Eventually, everyone got to talking about what they had been up to since seeing each other. 

Gwen noted that she had lately solved a mobster paper trail, a difficult and dangerous pursuit that had taken a great deal of stealth.

Noir merely shrugged when asked, then straightened up a bit as he told them that he had solved the ‘cube thingy’ taken from Miles’ dimension. 

After hearing of Noir’s achievement, Ham sniffed dramatically, wiping away an oversized tear. “We’re so proud of you!” He turned to Gwen, “They grow up so fast...” Noir promptly elbowed Ham, resulting in snickers around the room.

“What about you, Miles?” Peter asked from the couch on the other side of the table, his brown eyes keenly fixing onto Miles. “You haven’t told us about what happened after we left.”

“Oh, yeah,” Miles answered, idly squeezing his left wrist with his right hand. Everyone’s attention was fixed on him. “Well, obviously I won, because the universes didn’t get sucked into nothingness,” he offered. He found his smile becoming genuine as he recalled, “I took down Kingpin by yeeting him directly into the override panel.”

“What is...’yeeting?’” Noir pondered, while Gwen, Peni, and Ham laughed. Peter smiled, but his eyes didn’t leave Miles.

Miles tried not to fidget, wondering how Peter’s stare could be so downright unnerving.

“So- so- let me get this straight,” Gwen said, still chuckling. “You got Fisk by _throwing him at his own creation?_ ”

“Yeah, basically,” Miles answered. “I mean, there was a little bit more to it before then. Your usual smackdown and stuff.”

He forcefully directed his thoughts back to the moment at hand, not Fisk’s cruel gaze and crushing hands. _The same hands that killed Spider-Man, the same hands that shot the gun to kill Uncle Aaron, the same hands that almost destroyed Miles right in front of his father-_

“I don’t think he was expecting me to shock him with ‘the shoulder touch,’” Miles smirked.

Everyone stared in confusion, except for Gwen, who rolled her eyes with a fond smile.

———

The conversation shifted after that, and Miles decided he could use some fresh air. Everyone else was pretty preoccupied, seeming as Peni and Ham had just decided to have a pizza-eating contest.

Noir and Gwen were arguing over the risk of Peni and Ham possibly choking on too much pizza, while said spiders were glaring intently at each other as they picked up their first slices.

Miles was sure it was going to be an...interesting spectacle, but he was feeling a bit suffocated indoors. He had noticed what looked like a balcony door through the other side of the lab, so he softly excused himself and made his way outside.

Peni’s universe was filled with bright, neon signs and bold primary colors everywhere he looked. It was cool, and yet a bit much at the same time. Miles leaned himself back against the wall, taking a deep breath of cold air to try to orient his thoughts.

He loved his ‘spider-fam,’ but being reminded of the circumstances under which they met...

An old habit resurfaced as he pulled back his left sleeve. Miles had been surprised to see that his soul mark was beginning to brighten again lately. It had slowly gained some of its blue back from the stagnant, depressed grey. He wasn’t exactly sure when the transformation had begun, as he had been busy going through his own transformation at the time.

Maybe part of the bond was connecting the changes in their lives.

Miles pressed his thumb over the mark, the left corner of his lips turning up.

‘Hope you’re good,’ he thought, silently sending the words out to whoever was on the other side.

———  
Peter found that he wasn’t terribly interested in watching the physics-defying pizza eating contest going down. He was keenly aware of Miles slipping away the moment he thought they were all distracted.

The kid had grinned about his first victory as Spider-Man, but Peter had gotten the feeling there was some pain under that smile. 

He couldn’t say he was surprised. His first steps as Spider-Man had been excruciatingly hard. Oh, what he would have given to have someone to talk to about all of it.

Peter stood up, casually traipsing over to the mini bar to refill his soda, filling an additional cup as well. His eyes met Noir’s lenses as he headed towards the door where Miles had disappeared through. 

Noir gave him a barely perceptible nod, and Peter felt an understanding between them. 

_Look after each other._

He found Miles with his back pressed against the building wall, head tilted back slightly to gaze up at the foggy night sky. Peter couldn’t help but notice that Miles’ right hand was laying over his left forearm. Probably thinking about his soulmate, then.

Peter hadn’t considered the fact that soulmates may or may not be a thing in the other dimensions. He decided that asking such a thing now would probably be insensitive.

“Hey, bud,” he greeted, proffering Miles the second cup he had. “Pretty different-looking world from ours out there.”

“Yeah,” Miles agreed, his right hand dropping from his sleeve as he accepted the cup of soda. He made a face as he drank. “I gotta say, I don’t think I like soda from the future.”

Peter huffed a laugh out, leaning against the rail to look down at the streets below. The traffic was pretty slow, most people having gotten to where they were going on a Friday night.

“So, are you gonna tell me what you really think about the collider fight?” 

Miles blinked, brow furrowing as he shot Peter a look. “What do you mean? I fought Kingpin, then I threw him into the panel. That’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah, alright,” Peter agreed amicably. He paused, considering the city before him. “Y’know, you could say the same kind of thing about my first fight.” 

Miles raised a brow, then sighed. “OK, you’ve peaked my interest. Spill.”

“Alright. My first real fight was Green Goblin. Not like _your_ universe’s Green Goblin, mind you. The one from my dimension was still...human. Well, as human as you can be when you inject yourself with a bunch of drugs and fly around in goblin-themed outfit. 

“And yes, I am aware that that’s rich coming from a guy who got injected with radioactive venom and dresses as a spider,” Peter shot a smirk over his shoulder at Miles, who had been about to open his mouth to comment on Peter’s description.

“Anyway. So, Gobby decides it’s a great idea to make me choose between saving... a friend, and a bunch of kids. He threw all of them off a bridge and told me to catch whichever one meant more to me. 

“Lucky for me, I got some help from the people on the bridge, and everything turned out OK. Well, for the kids and my friend, at least. I had to face down Goblin afterward by myself. He didn’t make it easy on me.” Peter rubbed a hand against his ribs, scowling at the memory. “I got pretty roughed up from that fight. Y’know, cheesy pumpkin bombs actually do some pretty good damage.” Peter cracked a hollow grin.

“The injuries weren’t really the worst part, though. When I finally got an advantage, I found out that apparently, he was my best friend’s father. I froze up from the shock of it. He tried to stab me in the back as soon as I let my guard down. 

“I only survived because of my spidey sense. Goblin wasn’t so lucky. Got impaled by his own glider.” Peter sighed, a look of long-time regret passing over his face. “That experience, and everything that followed it? It changed me. I didn’t just walk away from that. Harry, his son, blamed Spider-Man for his father’s death. It eventually tore apart his life and our friendship.”

Miles felt vaguely horrified as he realized that Harry was, in all likelihood, Peter’s platonic soulmate. Did this mean that he had lost a Left _and_ a Right?

Peter continued talking, oblivious to Miles’ pondering. “So you might feel like you should just brush off the kind of experiences that come with this job, but some of them aren’t the kind that you come out of unscathed.” Peter turned to face Miles again. “I don’t want you to have to go through the tough parts alone, Miles. I...know you’ve already lost someone important. It, uh, isn’t quick or easy to recover from. Believe me, I know.”

Miles flinched imperceptibly, feeling the familiar weight in his chest at the thought of his Uncle’s hand clasping his for the last time.

“I know you already have all it takes to be Spider-Man. You took that leap of faith, and you saved so, so many people. Me included.” Peter paused. “I don’t know exactly what happened after I left. But I do know that being Spider-Man can be ruthless, and sometimes injuries aren’t always just physical.

“So... don’t be afraid to talk to me. I understand if you don’t want to talk about the hard parts with everyone else in there. But, y’know, I figured I should be there to offer you some support. Just in case there’s something that you need to get off your chest, or if it’s something you couldn’t normally talk about because of your secret identity.”

Peter suddenly hesitated, taking in Miles’ frozen form. “And, of course, you don’t have to confide in _me_ if you don’t want to,” Peter added hastily. “The offer’s just there to-“

“Peter,” Miles interrupted. “It’s- I- Thank you.” He stepped forward, pulling him into a hug.

Peter snapped his mouth shut, gently returning the gesture. He ruffled Miles’ hair as the kid stepped back, much to the teen’s chagrin.

“HEY, YOU GUYS,” A hyper-sounding voice came from inside as Peni appeared in the doorway. “You totally missed out on my epic victory!”

“Your ‘victory’ is highly debatable!” Ham’s voice shouted from further indoors. “The judges are still consulting!” 

Miles peeked around the doorframe to see Gwen and Noir conversing animatedly next to what looked like a pizza-covered disaster on the table. 

“Better get in there before a war breaks out,” Peter commented wryly, holding the door open as he and Miles entered back into the warmth of the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t really read any of the Spider-Man comics. There’s probably a comic-verse that Peter B. is based off of, but I chose to base the story he told in this chapter off of the first Raimi Spider-Man movie. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter skips around quite a bit. I was hoping to convey the nature of Miles’ and Peter’s relationship by showing both some every-day moments, and a few more important ones. 
> 
> There’s also a brief mention of death, blood and injury in this one. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Miles woke up the next morning to a message blinking at him on his PUP-O. Upon further inspection, it turned out to be a direct message from Peter B. to him. 

_‘Want some more sagely spider advice?’_ It read.

Miles typed back a reply.

_‘If by ‘sagely’ you mean stuff like filling my suit up with baby powder, no thanks.’_

_‘You’ll learn the hard way that that was good advice if you don’t follow it. But no, I was thinking more along the lines of sparring practice.’_

Miles considered the message. He _had_ been doing fine so far with criminals, his spidey sense usually allowing him to dodge their blows in time. But there _had_ been that one time where he got scraped by a knife he couldn’t quite get away from...

_‘Alright. I’m willing to give it a shot.’_

He smirked, adding another message: _‘If you think you can keep up with my reflexes.’_

In a different dimension, Peter B. let out a huff of amusement. This kid never failed to surprise him. 

_‘OK, rookie. We’ll see what you’ll be saying later when I show you how it’s_ really _done. Meet me in my dimension at 11:00.’_ He provided the coordinates.

 _‘The good 11 or the bad 11?’_ Was Miles’ cryptic reply.

“The good-? What the hell- ugh, teenagers.” 

_‘11:00AM.’_

_‘Ah, the bad one that doesn’t let me go back to sleep right now. Ok, see you then.’_

“Guess he’s a night owl,” Peter sighed as he pocketed the device. “That, or he’s just fulfilling his age-assigned duty of annoying the hell out of me.”

He figured it was probably the latter.

———

Miles stepped out into Peter’s dimension, coming out on the roof of a large building. He was already in his spider-suit, the red spray-painted logo shining proudly against the black.

“Pete- AH!” Miles leapt out of the trajectory of the spandex-clad feet that were suddenly swinging directly toward him.

“What the hell?” He yelled at Peter, who released his web-line, flipping out of his swing and landing across from Miles.

“You should always expect the unexpected!” Peter called in response. “Practice starts...now!”

Miles fell into a fighting stance, raising his fists and narrowing the lenses of his mask. “Alright, if that’s how it is, bring it!”

Peter did indeed ‘bring it,’ testing the younger spider’s reflexes and strength.

He was impressed with Miles’ knowledge- knowledge that he had clearly gained by himself. His dodging game was solid, but Peter recognized that his attacks would be easily deflectable by many of the villains he himself had faced.

The kid even caught him by surprise a few times, flickering out of appearance and landing a hit on Peter as he tried to find his opponent.

“Be mindful of your weight when you’re punching,” Peter pointed out, dodging one of Miles’ incoming attacks. “It would be pretty easy for someone to duck under your punch and kick your legs out.”

“You need to be mindful of your weight too,” the cocky kid called in reply, “But not just when you’re punching!”

“You might be sassing me now, but just wait ‘till I turn the difficulty up!” 

They fought on the rooftop for about an hour, finally breaking at around lunchtime. 

“You got any water?” Miles panted, pulling his mask up and resting his hands on his knees. “I’m parched.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to go to my apartment. Let’s regroup there.” Peter found that he was also out of breath. Sheesh, he was getting out of practice. These sessions could do him some good, too. 

They swung their way to Peter’s apartment, climbing through the cramped window, (he always left it unlocked for this very reason) and landing on the hardwood floor.

“Alright, I know it’s a mess,” Peter sighed, pulling his mask off and tossing it on his bed. “It’s a work in progress. You should have seen it a few weeks ago. At least now I’ve invested in a couch.” He stepped into the kitchen, digging out two clean glasses and filling them both to the brim at the sink.

He had admittedly made some good progress on cleaning the place up. It was still kind of a wreck, but meh, so was he. Unsorted items were left out on pretty much any surface available. Peter had been going through the unpacked boxes leftover from the divorce, throwing out some things that no longer served him and were just collecting dust. There were no longer any month-old pizza boxes left around, which Peter was counting as a win.

“So,” Miles said casually, flopping down on the second-hand (or third-hand? fourth-hand?) couch and taking a long sip from his glass. “Did you talk to MJ?”

Peter froze mid-sip, nearly choking at the mention of her name. “Hang on,” he said, glaring at Miles. “I don’t recall ever telling you I was gonna talk to her.”

”Oh come on man,” Miles said, gesturing with one hand. “We both knew that we were talking about it before I let you go into the portal.”

”Did we? Hmm, don’t recall,” Peter answered petulantly, studying the water in his glass as he swirled it around.

Miles dropped his hands, raising his eyebrows and giving Peter a deadpan look. 

”Alright, fine,” Peter acquiesced. “I might have dropped by her house a while ago.”

”And? How did it go?” Miles perked up, looking at the older spider with hopeful expectancy.

”We talked for a while, and then I went home.”

”Oh. No, I mean, like, is she willing to give it another go with you?”

”It’s...not that simple. But we’ve been talking. I’m trying _not_ to rush her and screw things up again. The whole thing’s just, y’know,” Peter ran an uneasy hand through his hair. “Difficult.”

”Not that I know anything about love, but I’m pretty sure communicating is a _*pretty*_ important part of a relationship. So it sounds like progress to me,” Miles said.

”Yeah, well, I probably should have been better at communication in the past. Or maybe I was too good at it, and she just didn’t like the things I _was_ communicating. Yeah, I would say that was definitely a proble-“ 

”Peter,” Miles interrupted what sounded like the beginning of a long rant. “You love MJ, right?”

”Well I mean yeah, of course-“

“And you really want to get back together?”

Peter nodded his head, giving a shaky sigh. “Yes, of course I do. How could I not? She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. Hell, even the whole damned universe thinks we’re supposed to be together, for whatever that’s worth,” he waved his right arm, indicating his soul mark. 

Miles blinked. “Then you’ll find a way to make it work.”

Peter sighed, again, glancing at the kid with a soft smile. “You seem pretty sure of that, for someone who’s only known me for a ‘couple of weeks.”

Miles shrugged sheepishly. “If she matters this much to you, then a solution’s worth pursuing.” He gave a wry smile. “I might not have a Right mark, but I still understand wanting to find happiness with someone.”

Peter blinked, and Miles could tell his friend was unsure of how to reply to his comment. “I... don’t really put a lot of merit in marks,” Peter confessed. “I loved MJ before I was 100% sure she was my Right.”

“It’s a good policy,” Miles answered. “It doesn’t always seem to be a guarantee that two people will be the best match. But it doesn’t hurt, either.”

He thought of his father’s and his uncle’s left wrists, both bearing words that were supposed to tie the two brothers together. They hadn’t even been on speaking terms throughout the majority of his childhood.

Peter finished the rest of his water, placing the emptied glass back into the kitchen. “I think that was enough training for one day,” he told Miles. He paused to consider. “But y’know, I could go for something to eat.”

At Miles’ groan, he laughed, insisting, “I’ll even pay this time!”

———

They ended up going back to Miles’ dimension just to eat at the crappy burger place that had become nonexistent in Peter’s dimension. 

Miles just prayed they weren’t getting botulism from the food. Maybe their enhanced metabolisms would burn off the germs. 

“Good work today,” Peter told him as they exited the dingy burger joint. “You got room for improvement in your fighting style, but I can tell you’ve developed a solid base to work off of. You’re doing a hell of a lot better than I was at your age.”

”Thanks,” Miles said, grinning as they stepped into an adjacent alley where Peter could portal away safely. “You wanna meet up next weekend, same time?”

”Sounds good, kid.”

”See you around, _Spider-Man_.”

Peter gave him a mock salute before stepping backwards into the portal.

Miles headed home, muscles aching but a smile on his face. 

———

They met up most weeks after that, Peter pushing Miles harder and harder during their sparring as he steadily improved.

The older spider was proud of Miles’ progress. The kid was smart, and a quick learner.

It turned out that Peter had a lot more advice than he had initially let on when he met Miles. The two worked on stealth practice, swinging, and even suit repairs.

”OK, you have GOT to wash that thing,” Peter informed Miles as he indicated the folded suit in the teenager’s hands.

”I can’t,” Miles insisted. “The spray paint design will wash out and probably destroy any washing machine we put it in!”

“I don’t know how you haven’t already died from inhaling toxic paint fumes every time you wear it,” Peter sighed, “But regardless, we have to do SOMETHING with it. How about getting all the paint off, then re-dying the pattern onto it?”

”It won’t give the same _effect_ ,” Miles complained. “I like the design. I’m not changing it.”

”What if you scrape off the paint only on the logo, trace over the lines with something non-washable, and THEN dye over the that?” Peter asked patiently. 

Miles paused his refusal at the idea, considering. He eventually agreed to try it, and the two set about the tedious process of carefully extracting spray-paint from the spandex. 

They scrubbed the suit off in his bathtub. Peter seriously hoped that washing so many paint chips down his apartment’s drain wouldn’t result in a plumbing issue. 

After gathering up the necessary supplies, Miles set to work dying the suit on the roof of Peter’s building, the other spider lazing about nearby and watching.

Gwen showed up partway through the process, sitting on the edge of the roof next to where Miles was working. She flipped through her phone, occasionally showing him some video or other and laughing.

Peter shook his head, smiling at the two as they conversed animatedly.

”It’s not _exactly_ the same,” Miles commented when the suit was finally done, “But it’s still the right design.”

“I think it suits you,” Peter answered. He snorted. “Get it? _suits_ you?”

Miles and Gwen stared at him.

Gwen just sighed, giving an exasperated smile and raising a brow fondly.

”That’s just- unbelievably terrible,” Miles replied, though he couldn’t stop the contagious grin that spread across his face.

”Every good Spider-Man needs a strong pun game,” Peter told the two. “It’s just part of the job.”

———

Peter was there to watch Miles deal with the difficult parts of being Spider-Man, too.

Three weeks into their training, someone who called himself “Chameleon” escaped the Raft in Miles’ universe. He didn’t waste any time in setting up an elaborate heist, targeting a rare artifact show at a museum.

Peter and the other spiders didn’t hear about it until afterwards, Miles mentioning it in casual conversation during what the kids humorously titled “The Meeting of the Spider-Council.”

“So, I nailed my first heist,” Miles bragged, showing off a selfie on his phone. It depicted Miles in his spider-suit, holding up the peace sign next to a scowling Chameleon.

Miles gladly told the detailed story of how he effectively ambushed Chameleon and his crew, wrangling the shifty (ha) villain back into police custody.

Peter was impressed, yet unsurprised to hear just how successfully Miles pulled off the mission.

At one point, he decided to visit the teen’s dimension for their weekly training for once, eventually finding Miles in an all-out brawl with some goons in an alley. 

Peter quickly stopped himself from interfering, instead observing as Miles handled the situation. The teen was creative with his unique invisibility and bio-electricity. Peter found himself chuckling as he watched Miles finish the last guy off by turning invisible, slipping behind him, and reappearing only to tap him on the shoulder. The guy yelped as Miles shocked him unconsciousness, the teen holding his hands out in a “Whatcha gonna do?” shrugging gesture.

He turned toward Peter as the older spider applauded. 

”Extra points for style,” Peter called.

———

As it turned out, Miles hadn’t forgotten about Peter’s offered shoulder to lean on.

“There was someone I couldn’t save last night,” Miles found himself confessing to his mentor. “They were in a burning building- and-“ he swallowed thickly, slumping down to sit on the edge of the rooftop. “I just couldn’t get there in time...”

Peter said nothing for a long moment, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, bud. You did all that you could. Just... try to focus on the lives you did save. If you hadn’t been there, a lot more people would have been lost. It isn’t your fault.” 

Miles sniffed, bowing his head as he tried to manage the grief rising up in him.

They stayed like that for a while, watching the sun set over the city.

———

Two weeks before Christmas, Peter heard a rapid knocking on his window at around 2AM.

He jumped, having just recently finished patrol and still wide-awake. 

“Miles?” He asked in surprise as he recognized the black-and-red clad figure sticking outside his apartment.

He wrenched open the window, and Miles tumbled inside. “I’m f-freezing,” the teen wheezed, water dripping off his suit.

“What the hell happened to you?” Peter gawked, steering the kid toward the bathroom. He threw a towel over him.

“I f-fell in the H-h-hudson! There was this g-guy I was trailing by the docks, b-but I lost him, because I jumped on this r-rusted metal b-beam over the water, and it b-broke. D-didn’t want to swing home in the c-cold, and my parents would p-probably h-hear me if I went home like t-t-this, so I t-teleported h-here,” Miles’ teeth were chattering at an alarming rate. 

Peter had been reaching into the shower as he talked, turning on the hot water on full blast. “OK, you need to get in the shower, stat. The hot water will warm you up. I’ll see if you have a change of clothes here.”

He stepped out of the room as Miles climbed directly into the shower, suit and all.

Peter set about rifling around for a change of clothes for the kid. He found a pair of sweatpants left from when Miles had changed into his suit in his apartment, but it looked like he was gonna have to borrow one of Peter’s crappy old ESU t-shirts.

A distressed groan came from the bathroom. “Why is there no more hot water?!”

Peter winced, “I might have sorta used a lot up before you got here? This apartment isn’t exactly five-star living, kid.”

He cracked the door open and tossed the change of clothes inside. 

Miles re-emerged a moment later, toweling his hair off. He looked miserable. 

“I’m still freezing my ass off.”

“At least you’re clean? I’m pretty sure that the Hudson’s at least 50% garbage. Here,” Peter gave Miles an additional sweatshirt. 

Miles cringed as he pulled it on, rolling up his left sleeve to reveal a gash on his arm.

“Wait, you’re _injured,_ too? Peter clenched his teeth, anxious impatience tugging at him. “You have to tell me these things, Miles!”

“The beam I was sitting on nicked me when I fell. Can’t it wait ‘til I’ve warmed up? It’s just a scrape. Just give me something to stop the bleeding.” 

“Oh yeah, waiting’s a great idea. The fever’ll warm you up _real_ quick when you get an infection from falling in the Hudson with an open wound!”

Miles grumbled more, but reluctantly sat on Peter’s bed. After a second of hesitation, he held out his left arm.

Peter grabbed his arm, looking at the wound more closely, making sure there wasn’t any shrapnel in it. He paused, cringing slightly as he realized that Miles’ soul mark was right there on display. 

’Hey, kid.’ It said in a swirling, almost anxious orange. 

”Uh... sorry, bud,” he said, pulling away to retrieve his first aid kit. “Not trying to violate your privacy here.”

”Oh, it’s, uh, fine,” Miles said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked at the mark. “I’m not generally super worried with keeping my mark private.”

Peter decided the wound didn’t need stitches. Miles’ regenerative healing would take care of it pretty fast. After he got the bleeding to stop, he set about disinfecting it and wrapping it carefully. 

”You mind me asking you something kinda personal?” He said, holding Miles’ arm still as the kid flinched from the sting of the disinfectant.

”Sure,” Miles answered. 

”Your, ah, Left,” Peter paused to focus on wrapping his arm. “Are they a lot older than you?”

He knew he shouldn’t be asking this. It was 2AM, and his better judgement seemed to be slipping a bit. He also knew he shouldn’t be hoping for the impossible answer that he wanted.

There was just no way. Miles would have said something. 

”I’ve had it since I was born. But I haven’t met them yet, so I don’t really know,” Miles answered.

Peter’s heart sank a little. He mentally chided himself for being disappointed. So what if he couldn’t quite remember the first words they had spoken to each other? Miles had _heard_ him when they met in that cemetery. He would have recognized Peter as his Left.

Of course it wasn’t Miles. He was being ridiculous. Since when did soul marks ever work out for Peter?

“Just figured they must be pretty geezer-ish to yell ‘Hey, kid’ the first time they lay eyes on you,” Peter chuckled. “I’m imagining a ‘get off my lawn!’ kind of scenario.”

That startled a laugh out of Miles. “You’re one to talk! That’s like your number-one nickname for me!”

Peter shrugged with a grin. “I’m not quite a geezer yet, but I’m still old enough to see you as the spring chicken that you truly are.”

”You’re weird, man.” Miles pulled his sleeve back down. He gave another little shiver. “Jeez, do you ever turn the heat on in here?”

” _You_ try living off the Bugle’s wages,” Peter stood up and replaced the the first aid kit in the bathroom. He re-emerged, making a shooing gesture at Miles with his hands. “Now scoot over. It’s time to binge mindless TV.”

Miles grumbled, but scooted over to the other side of the worn bed. The two sat shoulder-to-shoulder leaning against the wall, and Peter flipped on a channel that was playing re-runs of a 90’s sitcom.

Peter gave Miles a blanket when he noticed the teen still seemed chilled. The hot water from the brief shower helped a lot, but he still didn’t want the younger spider to get sick. Peter didn’t comment on Miles pressing closer into his side, simply reaching over and putting an arm around the kid’s shoulders.

Miles leaned into him, blinking tiredly as he rested his head against Peter’s shoulder. ”I thought responsible adults were supposed to go to bed at a reasonable time,” he mumbled.

”I don’t hear any responsible _students_ complaining about staying up this late.”

Miles gave a one-armed shrug. “I’m on Christmas break. And besides, I don’t sleep well most nights anyway.” He frowned after saying that, realizing his slip-up. 

”Oh? How come? You haven’t been staying up all night patrolling, right? I learned that was a bad idea after I passed out from exhaustion in high school. Right in front of my class.”

Miles considered lying, glancing at Peter out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but remember his mentor’s offer on the balcony that one night. “No, I try to get back to my dorm by midnight.” Miles fidgeted with his hands, staring down as he created little sparks between his finger tips. “I, um, just don’t do so great some nights. You know. Crazy dreams and stuff.” He felt ridiculous. He was Spider-Man! He was supposed to be better than this. He had no excusable reasons to be suffering from night terrors.

”I’ve had my fair share of those,” Peter broke through his thoughts. “I would understand if you don’t want to, but it always helped me a bit when I talked to someone about it.”

Miles bit his lip. This wasn’t going to be easy. “My dad was there when I fought Kingpin,” he began after another moment of silence between them. “He was way off in the distance, but I could see him. I heard him telling me to get back up. ‘Cause, you know, Fisk was... he had me pinned. I thought I was gonna go out like the other Spider-Man.

”I did get up...and I _won_. But sometimes, and I know this is stupid, I just wonder what _could_ have happened. And I guess those thoughts sort of bleed into my dreams. Some days it just feels like I can’t close my eyes without having to relive...bad moments.”

”It’s not a sign of weakness, you know.” Peter told him once he was sure that Miles was done talking. “I think you’re just trying to rationalize those moments. I mean, Jesus, Miles,” he sighed. “You went through a lot of crap in the span of around 3 days. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the fact that you had to watch two different people _die_ because of Fisk. So, yeah, it’s understandable that it’s left an impact on you.” 

Miles avoided eye contact, frowning like he still wasn’t convinced. Peter took that as a sign he should probably keep talking.

“Truth be told, I’m not exactly an expert on dealing with trauma. My usual strategy is to just try to ignore any difficult emotions. I could probably fund a psychiatrist’s student loans with all the therapy they would think I need. But that sort of method, suffering in silence, doesn’t work.

“Now talking about the problem, letting someone help with sharing your burden? I _know_ that helps.” He broke off, a sad smile on his lips. “I remember MJ forcing me to _talk to her_ on the days where all of my actions, all of my _mistakes_ caught up to me. All she had to do was listen, and be there for me, and it helped. ...That hasn’t been in the equation as much lately.”

Peter cleared his throat, getting back on track. “But obviously, I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up on the same path that I did.” He considered. “The best I can offer is this: the pain does get a little easier. You won’t forget it, but it’ll lessen over time. The things you see and do because of this job, they stick with you. The good parts and the bad.”

He squeezed Miles’ shoulder as the kid let out a shaky sigh, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I think you’ll start to feel better after getting this off your chest.” He added quickly, “But if you _don’t_ feel better about this, and it’s interrupting your life, then we’ll find a solution. Like some way for you to talk to someone better-equipped than me. Together.”

There was silence for a few moments, only filled with the quiet chatter coming from the TV.

”I used to talk to my uncle when I was in a bad spot.” Miles’ voice was almost a whisper. “He had a way of just talking through stuff and making it better. Kinda like how MJ helped you.” He paused, taking another shaky breath as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I miss him so much.” 

Peter hesitated a second before gently wrapping the fingers of his left hand around Miles’ right. 

Miles gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and Peter thought he could see unshed tears in the teen’s eyes caught from the light of the TV.

”He told me, just before he died,” Miles gave a subtle sniff, “That he was sorry for letting me down, and that I was ‘on my way.’” He hesitated. “I know he wasn’t the best person. He was ready to kill the other Peter, and you, and everyone else. But despite all of that, I still loved him. Because he came through in the end. And he wanted me to be Spider-Man.” Miles paused for a long moment, smiling sadly as he eventually said, “I remember hoping he was my Left when I was little. He wasn’t, but I didn’t let that stop me spending as much time with him as possible, even if I had to sneak out to meet him. He taught me a lotta stuff growing up.” His voice lowered again slightly. “He taught me how to spray-paint.

Peter stayed silent, listening to his mentee with careful attention.

Miles kept talking, feeling that he couldn’t stop his pain from escaping once he started. “Y’know, Uncle Aaron was there the night I got bitten. We were in this subway tunnel, right next to the collider chamber. He had just helped me make this mural I couldn’t get out of my head. I was...really proud of it. I think he was, too.” Miles’ face scrunched up a bit, and he swallowed thickly. “I never would have guessed that would be the last time we would paint together.” 

Peter didn’t say anything as Miles turned his head, rubbing at an eye. “That’s why you painted your suit. So that he could be a part of Spider-Man too.”

”Yeah. I wanted- I want to remember him,” Miles whispered, his voice choking up.

Peter didn’t hesitate to pull the kid into a full hug, feeling Miles’ shoulders shake with soft sobs.

“He would be proud of you.”

They stayed like that for a few long moments, Peter rubbing Miles’ back as the younger spider shed painful tears. Miles tried to take deep breaths, the sound of Peter’s heartbeat soothing him.

He pulled himself together after a bit, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Thank you,” he finally murmured hoarsely.

Peter just squeezed his hand again.

Pulling in another steadying breath, Miles asked softly, “Peter? You can, um, always talk to me, too, for what that’s worth.”

”It’s worth a lot to me, bud.” Peter answered just as softly. “And I know I’ll take you up on that offer one day. Right now, though, you just need to rest.” He took in Miles’ exhausted appearance, his earlier confession of sleepless nights heightening Peter’s worry. 

Miles took that statement as permission to finally fall asleep, still huddled close to his mentor.

Peter could only run a reassuring hand through Miles’ hair, silently wondering what he had done to deserve such a wonderful kid in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene where Miles tapped the guy on the shoulder and zapped him is straight out of the stealth combat in Spider-Man: Miles Morales. Both of the Insomniac Spider-Man games are fantastic.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

The holiday season flew by, the spider-gang taking time to celebrate their respective traditions. In the spirit of festivity, they decided to have a secret santa exchange at one of their meet-ups. Miles received Gwen as his recipient. He went out on a limb and got her a soft blue scarf. She seemed to like it, because he caught Spider-Woman wearing it over her suit during a visit to her dimension. 

He tried to deny the fact that he blushed and grinned like an idiot when he saw her wearing his gift for the first time. Peter and Ham didn’t let him off the hook easily, elbowing him and making snide comments.

Miles’ holiday was a little soured by the apparent return of Mysterio, who had been sighted, in full costume, stealing from a pharmaceutical warehouse. Unfortunately, the bizarre and foreboding crime had occurred while Miles was neck-deep in a final exam. He hadn’t met Beck face-to-face yet, but he was determined to put a stop to the fishbowl-wearing criminal. The Peter from his dimension had fought him a few times, usually capturing or driving him off with ease. Miles was willing to bet that he could take him on with little to no problems.

This year, Peter made a point to get out the Menorah that he inherited from May. He knew that he had fallen off the band-wagon for the past couple of years, but he was going to take it as a sign of improvement that he was making the time for celebrating Hanukkah. 

MJ actually _stopped by his apartment_ one day. He was surprised to see her, but quick to invite her inside.

”Your apartment’s nice,” she told him in that awkward tone they both used these days.

It was the kind of tone that said ‘We know each other like the back of our hands, but I’m not sure exactly how to address you now.’

She stopped to pick something up from the table, examining it closely. “I didn’t know you liked this kind of art?”

Peter turned around from where he had been busying himself with desperately trying to hide a pile of laundry. His home wasn’t exactly in tip-top shape for unexpected visitors. He squinted at the item in her hand. “Oh, that’s not mine, it’s Miles’. He left it here the other day.”

”You mean your spider-buddy?” MJ asked teasingly, staring at the bold, neon colors displayed in the sketchbook. (She silently noted the similarity to the style of the words she knew were imprinted on Peter’s left arm, but did not comment on it.)

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. The kid’s got talent. You should see him when we go swinging together. Sometimes he’ll demand that we stop to look at the street art.” 

”Sounds like you two spend a lot of time together.”

”You could say that. He’s been blowing right through any kind of training I throw at him. I don’t think I could have dreamed about being on the same level when I was his age.”

”He has a good teacher.” She gave him one of those smiles that never failed to melt Peter’s heart a bit.

———

Peter was on patrol the day that it happened. 

He had just won a free burrito for driving off some thugs robbing a vendor, and decided to sit up on the ledge of a building across from Trinity church.

He tried to tell himself that his choice of location was _coincidentally_ where he had first met Miles. Well, more like the spot where Miles immediately zapped him unconscious upon Peter greeting the kid.

The memory was fuzzy. He wasn’t even sure what Miles’ first words to him had been.

That particular detail still bothered him more than it should have.

What if-

No. He had already been through this! Just because he was finally reconnecting with MJ didn’t mean that he should start imagining these types of scenarios.

 _”I haven’t met them yet,”_ Miles had said. There wasn’t a lot of room for argument in that statement. 

Except...

...Miles’ words weren’t very unique. Chances were that he had met lots of people who initially greeted him with the same sentence.

Peter strained his memory. _What had he said?_

He remembered feeling depressed and cold, wandering around New York with the weight of having witnessed his own funeral pressing on his shoulders.

 _He wondered if anyone in_ his _New York would have cared this much if he died._

_He wasn’t surprised to find himself back at the church, climbing to a vantage point to peer down at his own grave. He saw the dozens and dozens of memorials slowly being dusted over by the steady snowfall._

_A small, solitary figure approached the grave marked with his own name._

_Peter recognized that he was only a teenager, standing in front of Spider-Man’s grave with slumped shoulders. He wasn’t surprised to see that he was dressed in a crappy Spider-Man costume. He had seen his fair share of Spider-Man outfits that day, the citizens of NY showing their support for the deceased. The kid’s words, though, now_ those _caught his interest._

_”I’m sorry, Mr. Parker. That thing you gave me, that key? I...think I really messed it up.” The teen looked down at something in his palm. “I wanna do what you asked, I really do. I’m sorry...”_

_Peter leapt down from his perch, landing a few feet behind the kid._

_Miles kept speaking, oblivious to the presence behind him at first. “I’m not sure I’m the guy. I can’t_ do this _without you._

Then Peter’s hand had landed on his shoulder, and looking back now, he was almost certain of the words he had said. “Hey, kid-“

He had been flung backwards by Miles’ Venom Strike. Everything was...fuzzy after that.

_What had Miles said?_

Peter pulled his left sleeve up, staring at the words. The words that reminded him of the beautiful spray-paint style that Miles loved, the words that were brilliant and bold-

Had Miles _lied to him?_ Or had he just been too surprised to register the words when they met? He had shot electricity out of his hands seemingly out of nowhere. Surely he had been just _a bit_ distracted...

_”Who are you?”_

Peter had never mentioned the fact that he had an unfound soulmate. He had never given any reason for Miles to believe that he hadn’t found his Left, or even that he _had_ one.

Peter remembered seeing Miles’ mark as he bandaged his arm, feeling weirded out when he saw the messy yet legible handwriting that screamed familiarity at him. 

He facepalmed, groaning as he realized he was going down the same path of thought that had been looping in his mind for days.

He pulled his hand away from his face, glancing back at the mark as he went to roll his sleeve down. Peter froze, forgetting his self-loathing as his mark suddenly sparked from a focused dark purple to a bright red. He gaped at it, dread gripping his heart.

Maybe he was being stupid, maybe this was all just spectacularly coincidental-

But if there was even a slight chance...

He had to check.

He fumbled for his PUP-O, sending a direct message to Miles. _‘Hey. Any chance you want to meet up today?’_ He waited one minute, two, five. 

School was out, it was around 5PM in both of their dimensions, he should have been answering-

An error message appeared on the screen.

_Unable to connect. Message not received._

Peter didn’t hesitate to jam in the coordinates that led straight outside Miles’ dorm room.

He slammed a fist on the window, nearly breaking the glass in his anxiety. A shocked Ganke appeared, quickly letting Peter inside.

”Where’s Miles?” he asked immediately, staring intently at the teenager.

”He’s-he’s fighting Mysterio,” Ganke answered, concern in his eyes. “It’s all over the news. They’re at the top of one of Fisk’s old buildings in Manhattan. I tried to call him up, but he wouldn’t answer. I would have called you for help, but Miles took his communicator with him.”

Peter turned and launched back out the window without another word. 

He trusted Miles to take care of both himself and his dimension’s New York. He had seen the teen go toe-to-toe with opponents twice his size and make it look easy.

But he also knew that Mysterio was a manipulative bastard, and he never played fair, preferring cheap tricks over straight-forward combat. If the red letters on his left arm could actually mean what he thought they did, Miles was in trouble.

He launched himself across the supports of the closest bridge to Manhattan, honing in on the construction sight of a Fisk building far in the distance. It was easy to pick out. There was a dark cloud surrounding the top, clearly created by the fishbowl-wearing maniac himself.

Peter flew way over the police line, ignoring the gasps and screams as people saw Spider-Man scaling the building. The top half had been left incomplete halfway through construction, leaving many gaping openings. It was mostly concrete caverns at this point. He passed through the creepy fog without hesitation, recognizing it to be harmless. Beck always did love to dramatize everything as much as possible.

Slipping into the building, he froze when he heard a yell reverberate inside one of the chambers inside. Peter’s pulse quickened, slipping inside as stealthily and quickly as he could.

”STOP!” Miles screamed just as Peter peered around a pillar and caught sight of the kid. “Please! I- I can’t!” He was cowering away from thin air, the lenses of his mask squeezed tightly shut. The thick, pervasive green smoke surrounding him told Peter all he needed to know. Mysterio had gotten him with one of his hallucination-inducing smoke bombs. Miles was probably seeing something unspeakably horrifying. 

Peter felt rage run hot through his veins. His first instinct was to run to Miles, but he knew that would only result in a higher risk of him becoming incapacitated as well. Instead, he focused on his spidey-sense, searching for the source of Miles’ pain.

He couldn’t see Mysterio anywhere, but he knew he was close by.

His sixth sense flared in screeching intensity just as Peter turned to see a a sharp piece of metal flying at his head from above. He ducked just in time. 

”My, my, I can’t believe my luck!” Oh, great. Beck put on a fake British accent in this dimension too. “Here I thought I would only catch _one_ spider, but now I have two! Hang on- aren’t you meant to be _dead?_ ”

”You’d be surprised with the rumors people will believe,” Peter hissed, turning to look at Beck from where the villain hovered above him on rocket-powered boots.

Peter noted that he already looked pretty roughed up, his armor dented and crushed in a few places. Miles must have gotten in some good hits before Beck caught him with the hallucinogens.

”No matter,” Mysterio waved him off. “You’ll soon be joining your young friend over there. Now he _does_ seem to be having a good time, doesn’t he?” 

Peter snarled at that, launching into the air after Mysterio and firing a web at him. Beck dodged easily, the two engaging in a game of cat-and-mouse around the support beams making up the hollow building.

Mysterio hurled his various bombs and projectiles at Peter, while the older spider shot webs between the support beams in an effort to stop Beck. The villain had to slow down in order to avoid the growing number of traps, allowing Spider-Man to catch up. He snagged onto one of Mysterio’s boots, careful to avoid the red-hot flames licking dangerously near him. 

Peter gave Beck’s ankle a hard squeeze, not really caring if he broke it or not. Mysterio yelped, and his left boot’s flames sputtered. He fell, Peter still clinging to him as they crashed into the hard concrete of an elevated level.

”Gah! Was that much force really necessary?” Beck whined, lurching to his feet unsteadily.

”It is when you hurt my family,” Peter snapped, his anger tunneling his vision on Mysterio. He lunged toward Beck, ready to finish it and help Miles...only to pass through him.

Shit. How could he have forgotten about the projected illusions? Beck was famous for using trick holograms as part of his tech.

His fear had blinded him to reason, and now he was about to pay for it. _Miles_ would pay for it.

The projected Mysterio vanished, just as Peter heard the distinctive _pops_ of his bombs.

He immediately tried to cover his nose and mouth, but it was too late. Yellow vapor had spread pervasively through the air, the last breath he had taken already drawing it into his lungs. The color of the bombs was different from the hallucinogenic type, which sent a flash of worry through Peter. The Mysterio in _his_ dimension only ever thought to cook up one flavor of gas.

”Ah, there we are,” the unseen Mysterio laughed as Peter slumped to his knees after taking in just one breath of the noxious fumes. He pushed back to his feet, trying to stumble away from the fog, but couldn’t make it.

He felt like every single drop of energy was sucked out of him, the world spinning as he collapsed back to the floor. “What- the hell- did you do to me?” He hissed.

The real Mysterio came out of the fog, arms crossed as he towered over Peter. “I can see now that you’re obviously _not_ Peter Parker. Even he wouldn’t fall for that. It’s an old recipe, but just as I suspected, none of you _new_ spiders seem to know much about me.” He strutted closer, his bubble-head angled down to survey Peter as he coughed on the floor. “It cuts right through even the most enhanced metabolism, making you as weak as a kitten.” He knelt down, forcing Peter’s head up as he leaned closer. “I didn’t get to try it yet on the younger one, but I’m sure there will be time later. I think he’ll make quite the lab rat, hmm? All that spidery endurance will make for lots of wonderful testing opportunities.”

Disgust curled through Peter at the idea of Beck going anywhere _near Miles_. ”You’ll have to kill me first,” he choked out. “I’m not letting you hurt him..again...” he coughed weakly, his head slumping in Beck’s grip.

”Touching. It’s so special to see the bond between two fools. Perhaps I’ll spare you from watching him suffer more.” Mysterio released his grip on him, pulling an extravagant dagger (of course he would have a _dagger_ ) from his belt. He held the blade to Peter’s throat.

”You...sure...got an element...for theatrics,” Peter wheezed. His eyes started to slide shut. “Thoughhh...your.. fake...accent....could...use some......work...”

”I’ll keep it in mind,” Beck taunted, pulling the knife back in preparation to stab the weakened Spider-Man.

Peter was helpless, the fumes having effectively reduced his strength to nothing. ‘ _I’m sorry,_ ’ he thought as his right hand barely found his left arm. His sleeve was still pulled up from earlier, the beautiful words blurring in his vision. 

He wasn’t expecting the muddled, aching red to illuminate into a blinding electric blue.

In front of him, Beck jerked, his body lit up by the same blue hue.

Peter could barely raise his head to see Miles standing behind Beck as he collapsed onto the floor, still twitching from the Venom Strike.

It had to be the most powerful image Peter had ever witnessed. Before him stood Spider-Man, his hands still illuminated as he reached out for Peter.

 _He was all that stood for hope, and goodness, and_ light.

Miles’ hand was covering his mouth and nose through the suit as he grabbed Peter by the arm and fired a web-line away from the cloud of yellow smoke. 

The younger spider sucked in a loud breath as they burst free from it, barely managing to break their fall as they landed on the floor. “I got you, Peter,” He panted, muscles trembling from exhaustion and pain. 

Peter wanted to say a million things, but his entire head was swimming with dizziness, and he just wanted to _sleep_.

He was barely aware of Miles wrapping an arm around his shoulders, helping them stumble to an opening in the wall where they could get out.

”Just hang on,” Miles whispered, “I’ll get us outta here.”

“M’les...’m...sorr’,” Peter forced out as Miles hooked onto him more firmly, sticking to Peter and swinging off the side of the building. 

”It’s gonna be ok,” Miles told him. “We’re gonna be ok.”

———

_Miles had known that the suspicious cloud encasing the Fisk construction sight was a trap. It was a clear summons: ‘Come and get me, Spider-Man.’_

_Beck had wanted to meet the new Spider-Man, and meet him he did. Miles had slipped inside the building, silently searching for Mysterio. It didn’t take long for him to discover the villain._

_From what he knew, he had expected smoke and illusions, leaping after Mysterio with passion and confidence. Beck didn’t make it easy on him, though. When Miles finally tackled him to the floor, attacking his armor’s vulnerable spots, Mysterio had launched the two toward the nearest wall with his thruster-powered boots. He slammed Miles into the hard concrete, throwing down a gas bomb as he did._

_The drug worked much faster than Miles could have ever imagined._

_It was like every nightmare he had ever had come to life, his fears manifesting in front of him. He stumbled away from the towering form of Kingpin before him, not noticing as Beck hovered away to investigate the sound of someone approaching._

_Fisk wasn’t looking at him. His cruel gaze was set on the familiar, crumpled form before him._

_”Miles...”_

_A broken voice creaked out, as Peter’s hand reached for him with bloody, shaking fingers. This time, something was different._

_The eye peering out at him through the fractured lens was brown._

_”No,” Miles gasped. He staggered away from the terrible vision, trying to convince himself that this was fake, Beck was messing with him-_

_”STOP!” He yelled as Fisk raised his hands, because he always did, it was inevitable-_

_The sickening sound echoed in Miles’ ears again._

_He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape the living hell he found himself in. “Please,” Miles cried softly. “I- I can’t...”_

_He crawled backwards on his hands until the pungent smell of the gas began to fade. He hit a wall a few times, but redirected himself, keeping his eyes firmly pressed shut, trying to block out the nightmarish imagery._

_When he was finally out of the center of the billowing cloud, he forced his eyes open, the hallucinations still echoing in his ears. The images were wobbling before his eyes, and finally, he heard something real: a yelp of surprise from somewhere behind him._

_Miles dragged himself to his feet, stumbling his way toward the sound. He felt fear grip his heart even more firmly when he heard a familiar voice._

_”What- the hell- did you do to me?”_

_Beck answered, but Miles wasn’t listening._

_He pushed himself to move forward as fast as he could, determination and electricity sparking within him._

He wouldn't let Spider-Man die again.

He wouldn’t let _Peter_ die.

———

Aunt May had told Miles that he was welcome at her home any time, whether he needed help or just wanted to visit. She used to work as a nurse, which had come in handy for her Peter more than once.

Miles hadn’t taken her up on her offer until today. He hoped it still stood, because he practically crash-landed into her front yard. He supported Peter’s weight, sending out a silent thanks for his super-human strength as he hoisted them up the front steps.

The gas that Mysterio had unleashed upon him had weakened Miles considerably, but nowhere near as much as whatever he had used on Peter.

Miles slammed his fist harshly on the door, likely disturbing May’s neighbors in the process.

He didn’t care. Peter needed help.

The door was wrenched open after an agonizing moment. May appeared, wielding the same baseball bat that she had held when Miles first met her. He guessed that it paid to be careful when you were Spider-Man’s aunt.

”Miles!” She gasped as she took in the drooping figure on her doorstep.

”Peter- needs- help,” he wheezed as he stumbled inside. “Mysterio- he-“ 

”Lay him on the couch,” May instructed immediately. She slipped under Peter’s right side, helping Miles drag the older spider to her sofa. 

May began to look for signs of injury, moving through the motions in a practiced manner.

”He inhaled this g-gas,” Miles gasped, vaguely hyperventilating as he watched. “I- I couldn’t get there in time-“

“Slow down. Was he hurt in any other way?” May demanded as she took Peter’s pulse.

Miles tried to swallow more air, his heart racing in his ears. ”Not that I could tell. Beck- he- he was gonna stab him,” Miles’ stomach lurched violently at the thought. “But I stopped him.” 

_It had been close, so very, very close- His fear had been consuming, just like it had been when the bullet sang through the air to tear into Uncle Aaron, just like it had been when the echoing slam of Kingpin’s fists crushed into Spider-Man-_

”Miles, breathe for me.” May was suddenly much closer, gentle hands clasping his arms. “Peter is going to be alright.”

Miles took a deep, staggering breath. “I could swear I couldn’t hear his heart while I was carrying him-“

”Listen now,” May encouraged softly. 

Miles knelt next to Peter, his mentor’s face a sickly pale color in the soft lighting of May’s living room.

He closed his eyes, his advanced hearing honing in on the gentle, steady rhythm that whispered of familiarity.

Not for the first time, he thought the sound was not dissimilar to the underlying rhythm in the background of his life. 

The young spider let out a shaky sigh of relief, slumping against the couch as he knelt forward closer to the floor.

”I’ll have him drink some fluids when he wakes up, but for now, he’s stable. Just looks like hell.” She laid a hand on Peter’s forehead in a tender motion. “I’ve seen _my_ Peter shake off the same drug. I was so terrified when he showed up in such a state. With a little time and rest, though, he was back on his feet in no time.” She smiled sadly. “Your metabolisms are quite amazing, you know. He might have a bit of a cough for a while, but he’ll burn right through the toxins. I’m just disappointed to see that Mysterio is up to his old tricks.”

”You’re sure he’s fine?” Miles asked as May guided him to the armchair next to the couch.

”Yes. If I even suspected that something might go wrong, I would act immediately. I’ll monitor him for any changes just in case, but from my past experience, he _will_ be fine.” She paused, “I can tell you got something in your system, too. I want you to tell me if you develop any further symptoms.” She paused, adding in a softer tone, “Are you experiencing any hallucinations?”

Miles shook his head. “No, not anymore. I’m just dizzy and tired. He got me pinned and I- couldn’t get away in time...”

“I’ll get some disinfectant and bandaging for your scrapes,” May told him. “Sit down and try to rest. You’ll have you drink lots of fluids too, to help flush any lingering substance out.”

Miles hadn’t even noticed that he was injured, looking down to find his suit torn on his hands arms. The minor wounds were already healing over. He probably got scraped up when he was trying to get away from the hallucinations.

”Thank you,” he told May, relieved and grateful to her.

She just nodded kindly.

When May stepped out of the room, Miles leaned forward, gazing at his unconscious friend. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I was an idiot,” Miles whispered softly. “I rushed in thinking I would be able to beat him. Now you’re paying for my stupidity...”

———

Peter woke to an aching in his bones. For a second, he figured it was just middle age kicking him in the butt again, until he realized he wasn’t in his apartment.

_Miles!_

He jerked up into a sitting position, letting out a rather undignified wheeze as his lungs ached. Beck’s stupid bombs had put a wrench in the works, but he didn’t care about that for the moment.

”Miles?” He breathed when he saw the kid slightly slumped in the armchair nearby. 

Miles’ eyes flew open as if he had been pretending to be asleep. His anxious gaze met Peter’s.

”Peter! You’re awake. Are you OK?” The kid pulled himself off the chair, coming to kneel next to the couch.

”I’m fine,” Peter responded, his voice a little hoarse. “It’s you I’m worried about, bud.” 

“I’m, uh, OK. You should probably lay back down. May said you’d be off your game for a while.” He paused, guilt clouding his expression. “I’m so sorry this happened. It’s my fault. I should’ve been able to take Beck myself.”

”Hey, don’t worry about this, kid. And please don’t forget that _you_ saved _my_ bacon, not the other way around. He got me good with that nasty stuff. I would’ve been a goner if you hadn’t been there.”

Miles let out a pained laugh. “I think we saved each other. I wouldn’t have been able to get back up if you hadn’t distracted Beck.” He frowned. “Speaking of, how did you find me? He stole and crushed my teleporter as soon as he could.”

Peter’s face scrunched up as he opened his mouth to start talking, only to shut it again awkwardly. Eventually he sighed, running a nervous hand over his stubble.

”Kid, I gotta ask you something. Something that’s been bugging me for a while now.”

He was exhausted, and this was probably a bad time to have this conversation, but he was just _so tired_ of waiting.

Miles’ heart picked up a little, but he nodded for him to continue.

Peter stared at him for another moment, biting his lip. “You remember how you told me you hadn’t met your soulmate yet? It was on the night where you fell in the river and showed up at my apartment dripping wet.”

“Yeah,” Miles whispered. It was a difficult occasion to forget.

Peter fidgeted nervously. “Well, you see, the thing is, I haven’t met my Left, either. I didn’t grow up with a platonic mark. Mine didn’t appear until I was 23. On that night...something about seeing your mark made me start to make certain...connections. Connections that were probably wrong, but that I just couldn’t get out of my head.”

Miles didn’t dare say anything. Peter couldn’t possibly be going where he thought he was.

”When I was...about to get stabbed. I, um, had my left sleeve up. You shocked Beck, and my mark- well, it practically lit up.” 

Miles gazed at his mentor, frozen as he waited with baited breath.

“The whole _reason_ I was looking for you in the first place was because I saw that my soulmate was in trouble. If there was even the slightest chance...I had to find you.”

Slowly, Miles reached a hesitant hand out to Peter’s left sleeve, locking eyes with him. The older spider gave a slight nod, and Miles gently pulled back the fabric.

_’Who are you?’_

The style of the words was achingly familiar, just like the memory that surfaced along with it.

_”Who are you?” Miles had whispered to the fallen stranger in the snow._

”It can’t be,” Miles breathed, tracing his hand over Peter’s mark.

”I know it’s ridiculous, but I don’t remember your first words to me, Miles. I never even considered...” Peter took a shaky breath at Miles’ gentle touch. “That you could be my _soulmate_.”

When Miles didn’t say anything, he pondered, “But at the same time, looking back? It makes perfect sense. You came into my life when I was at my lowest. I was done with life, done with being Spider-Man.” He smiled tenderly. “But then you came along, and I got to see your transformation from a scared kid, to a powerful, fearless _hero_. And that changed something in me. 

”You made me realize that life could be worth living again. You helped _me_ take a leap of faith. You made me remember what being Spider-Man is really about. And after everything you did for me, I felt...complete.”

Miles blinked quickly, averting his gaze. “This is- this is _a lot_.” At Peter’s slightly guilty grimace, he quickly added, “But it’s also something that I need.” He pushed himself off the floor, sitting on the sofa and wrapping Peter into a tight hug. 

Peter felt his irritated lungs get compressed, but he didn’t care. Miles was here in his arms, and he was _safe_.

”I don’t think I would’ve made it to being Spider-Man without you,” Miles whispered. “You taught me—have _been_ teaching me—everything I needed to know. I always felt this... _connection_ between us. Like I’ve known you my whole life. I guess in a way, I have. It just seemed too good to be true.”

He shifted out of the hug, opting to sit nestled into Peter’s side.

”I thought you had found your Left already,” Miles said after another moment of peaceful silence in which Peter ran a gentle hand up and down his shoulder. “When you told me that story about fighting Green Goblin, you said Harry was your best friend, so I kinda just assumed he was your platonic.”

Peter let out a hollow laugh. “No, not Harry. It did _not_ occur to me that I made it sound like he was my soulmate.”

”So... this whole time, and neither one of us figured it out? We’re...low key kinda idiots.” Miles cracked a grin.

”Hey, I asked you,” Peter gave him a gentle poke. “You told me you hadn’t found them yet!”

”I didn’t realize you said my words! I was kinda busy being freaked out when we met,” Miles huffed.

”I was kinda busy being knocked unconscious by a sparky, electrical brat.”

”Hey, this ‘sparky, electrical brat’ saved your ass earlier, man.”

”That you did, and I’m grateful.” Peter squeezed Miles’ shoulder, giving him a gentle smile as he added, “And, I’m, uh, also grateful that the universe tied us together.” His voice lowered. “You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me, kid.”

Miles grinned back. “I’m glad it was you.”

May later found them curled up together, sound asleep on her sofa.

Both spider’s arms displayed a contented, rose gold hue.

_Joy and love._

————————

”Stop fidgeting with your tie, bud,” Peter told Miles as they climbed up the steps.

”I have to wear a tie for school, and it never gives me this much trouble! It’s like this one’s possessed or something. I swear it’s trying to strangle me!”

Peter reached over, loosening it and straightening it in a practiced motion. “Better?” He asked with a raised brow.

Miles let out a huff, but nodded.

Peter gave him a satisfied grin before raising a hand to knock. He froze halfway, a look of anxiety rising on his features. 

”Hey, you got this, man.” Miles nudged him gently. “This isn’t a big deal. We’re just going to dinner.”

”I know,” Peter sighed. “I’m always just afraid of screwing up.”

”C’mon, we’ve been through this before. You’re not gonna. Besides, you got a great wingman.” Miles wiggled his eyebrows with a mischievous smirk.

Peter gave him a genuine smile, remembering why he had invited Miles. 

The kid was a beacon of hope. He lit up the darkest recesses of Peter’s fears.

They were literally _destined_ to be there for each other.

Miles was unfathomably important to him. He should get to meet the other most important person in Peter’s life.

He could do this.

He knocked, giving a sheepish grin when the door swung open.

”Hi, MJ.”

He put an arm around Miles’ shoulder, his smile turning fond as he looked at the younger spider.

”This is Miles. The kid I’ve been waiting for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! That’s a wrap! Time for a very long author’s note!
> 
> -In case I haven’t made it clear, several of the details from this book came from various Spider-Man sources. For example, in this chapter, the little tidbit about Gwen wearing a scarf over her suit is a sort of reference to the previously mentioned SM:MM. Seriously. That game has inspired me greatly. 
> 
> -I could have sworn there was a version of Mysterio that put on a fake accent? I’m probably confusing him with a different villain. Anyway, I liked the idea of a very dramatic Beck, so I included that detail. He seems like the kinda guy who would think pretending to be British would make him more theatrical. 
> 
> Other than that, I just used my extremely limited Mysterio knowledge. Pretty sure he uses gas and illusions (Excluding the live action one). I don’t know if the gas could make Spider-Man hallucinate, but in this story, it worked, so I went with it.
> 
> -I might do more fics in this universe. I love soul marks as a concept.
> 
> And finally, thank you for all of your support! I’ve received a wonderful welcome to the archive from the love given to this fic.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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